His two wives have been here. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. "I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. ‘I do not command your services, mon major. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days.
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